


Stepping Stones

by onlysmallwings



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlysmallwings/pseuds/onlysmallwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn’s feet never left the path of her faith. It’s everything else she’s unsure of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through "Original Song;" disregarding canon after that.

Father Glen was a really nice guy. He was the priest in charge of the youth organizations at St. Gerard’s and the person Quinn was closest to there. He actually called Quinn when she missed three Sunday masses in a row after she got kicked out. When Quinn told him she was pregnant and didn’t deserve to attend mass anymore, he said that Jesus loved even Mary Magdalene and surely still loved Quinn. And he was always there with a smile, a cup of coffee and a word of advice that actually made sense. Father Glen was the definition of ‘imperturbable.’

Quinn found herself talking to Father Glen at least once a week during the summer after Beth was born. She occasionally felt a little bad about using him as a therapist, but he never made her feel guilty or wrong about having had a child and then giving her up for adoption. He praised her strength in giving Beth away to a home where she would get everything Quinn, as a child herself, could not give her. She talked to him about everything, really. Her fears for the future, the state of her parents’ divorce, her frosty relationship with her sister, her friends, the Glee club and Cheerios. Brittany and Santana come up with surprising regularity and one day she asked him about them.

"So, I’ve told you a lot about Santana and Brittany, right?"

"Yes, they’re on the Cheerios with you and in Glee, right? They’ve been good friends to you, for the most part," Father Glen said.

"Mostly... Brittany more than Santana, but she shows brief flashes of caring sometimes," Quinn smiled a little. She and Santana were always prickly with each other, but they kept coming back to one another, insult after insult. "They’re together. They aren’t dating, or whatever, but it’s obvious that they’re completely in love."

"Okay," he said after a pause. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no," Quinn said quickly. "They’ve always been much closer to each other than to me. I guess I’m just not sure how God would want me to, you know, feel or treat them or, um, I don’t know."

"They’re your friends, right?" Father Glen asked, smiling. "You love them and they love you? Then continue to treat them as your friends. It’s just love, Quinn, nothing to be afraid of."

"Even though the Church says it’s wrong?"

"The Church is one lens through which we interpret God’s Word," Father Glen said slowly, obviously choosing his words carefully. "People make mistakes, even good, God-fearing, holy people, when interpreting something as vast and all-encompassing as God. I, personally, cannot believe that God would want you or anyone to speak or act hatefully toward someone just because their desires don’t happen to fall within Church canon."

"Okay," Quinn said with that look that indicated she would be thinking about this for a while to come.

  
Junior year started shortly after that particular conversation and Quinn kept thinking about it. It helped her to not think about other things in her life. Sam, Finn, and the silence of an empty house. She still talked to Father Glen, but it was much more sporadic.

Finally, still running high off of New Directions’ win at Regionals the Friday before, she caught Father Glen for more than a few minutes after Mass. She explained everything that had gone on since Christmas with Sam and Finn and getting mono and winning Regionals and trying to make prom queen.

"It’s hard, but I think we have a real shot," Quinn said. "Glee club isn’t helping our status, but I really think we can pull it off."

"Why is this so important to you, Quinn?" Father Glen asked. "Having status in high school? It’s just another year and a bit before you’re done. Does it matter outside of high school that you were prom queen? High school feels like forever when you’re in it, but life after high school can take some surprising and delightful turns."

"I don’t know," Quinn finally said after long minutes of silence. "It does matter in high school. It’s like I see this future all planned out for me and I’m pretty sure that I don’t want it. I don’t want to be stuck in Lima with a decent job, a blue-collar husband and a house and kids and PTA meetings. I want the chance to be able to get out of Lima and stay away. Maybe being popular can help me do that?"

"Quinn, I know you have excellent grades and are taking AP classes," Father Glen said, a little baffled at the sudden outburst. "I’m sure many colleges would love to have you, and scholarships and loans shouldn’t be too hard to come by for a girl with your history and situation. Think about it, Quinn. Don’t resign yourself to a future you admit you hate just because it’s all you see right now. Moses led his people in the desert for forty years. I’m sure they thought of giving up more than once. Persevere, Quinn, make your future what you want it to be."

"I’m trying, Father," Quinn smiled tiredly. "Temptation abounds, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough with God."

"You are a precious child of God, Quinn. He will be your pillar of strength when you need Him," Father Glen said with love and faith shining in his eyes.

  
Father Glen was right, of course. Quinn went to prom with Finn and got her shiny crown that changed absolutely nothing. It did not return her Queen Bitch Of McKinley title, the crowds still do not part for her, and Finn still sighed after Rachel. Quinn finally got tired of the last and broke up with Finn. Santana verbally smacked some sense into her about Finn’s inability to be a rational person and got her to see the light. She and Santana had been hanging out more since Brittany got with Artie. San’s not willing to be second-best, but she’s also not ready to be out and open. They talk about everything between them, about Santana and Brittany’s relationship, and, of course, when Santana realized it wasn’t just Brittany; she really just likes girls.

"Well, Quinnie, you were my first kiss," Santana mocked one evening as they mostly ignored ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ again.

"Ha ha," Quinn deadpanned, before smiling at Merry and Pippin's antics.

“You don’t remember?” Santana asked, suddenly unsure.

"Of course I do," Quinn replied dismissively, distracted enough by the familiar movie into being honest. "We were twelve and curious about kissing. So we kissed, it was nice, no big deal."

"Yeah," Santana smiled, relieved that this wasn’t going to be an issue. "As I recall, you weren’t bad for a twelve year old. No drooling."

"Unlike Finn," Quinn said, finally turning to face Santana on the couch. She rolled her eyes, "God, he used to slobber all over my chin when we first started dating."

"So did Puck, so don’t feel too bad about that," Santana said. They did get better, though." They settled in comfortably to watch a bit more of the movie in silence.

"So, wait," Quinn said a while later. "We taught them both how to kiss properly? After practicing on each other?" She started giggling.

Santana caught on to the absurdity of the situation and started laughing along, "Yeah. Chastity Queen and the Lesbo taught the two biggest studs in school how to kiss after having learned on each other in middle school!"

"I still think you were a better kisser than any of those guys," Quinn remarked casually, getting up for more sodas. "At least you knew what felt good for a girl, again unlike my Prom King, who never seemed to learn."

“How’s that crown working out for you?” Santana called, not bothering to pause the movie.

"It’s pretty and worthless," Quinn said bluntly, handing over a soda and flopping back down. "I think I’m done with guys for a while."

"Gonna give girls a try?" Santana leered, sliding a hand up Quinn’s thigh playfully.

"No, perv," Quinn laughed, swatting the hand away. "I’m going to be single for a while. Focus on school and what I want to do after high school."

"Good plan," Santana said. "Mind if I join you with it?"

"Sure, now hush, it’s the river scene."

  
"Santana’s been over a lot recently," Judy remarked nonchalantly as they passed each other in the kitchen.

"Yeah, we’re hanging out more now that she and Brittany aren’t together," Quinn said absently, frowning a little at the grocery list she was writing. "Do you need anything for your bathroom? I’m going after school today."

"No, thank you," Judy replied, focusing on the previous statement. "Santana and Brittany were _together_? Quinn, I’m not sure how I feel about you having her stay the night, and in your bed, if she’s, well, like _that_."

"Like _what_?" Quinn asked, suddenly furious. "Like my best friend who just had her heart broken? Like a real _friend_ again? Like someone who has _always_ treated me the same, even when I was pregnant and homeless?"

"Quinn, I’m sure she’s been nice to you, but-"

Quinn cut her off, "Santana isn’t nice to me, Mom. She’s just as bitchy with me as she’s always been. And she’s not trying to get into my pants, either. She is my friend. _Just_ my friend."

"We are taught to love the sinner and hate the sin, I suppose...," Judy said faintly, cowed by her daughter’s anger.

"Something like that," Quinn muttered bitterly. "Don’t forget to sign the checks I left out. That’s power, gas, and our cell phones; I’ll mail them on my way to the grocery store and I still have your credit card for that."

Quinn grabbed her bags and left her mother alone in the kitchen. ‘Love the sinner, hate the sin.’ Quinn silently fumed on her drive to school. ‘What absolute crap.’ But Quinn had a feeling her mother actually meant it. Judy typically followed along with whatever she was told; that’s why she stayed in a crumbling marriage until the evidence against Russel couldn’t be explained away. Judy floundered as a single woman. Quinn, over the last months, had found herself more and more taking over the responsibilities of running the house. Groceries were purchased, bills paid, and all the small emergencies of home ownership fell to Quinn’s care. She was the one who called a plumber when the hot water heater decided to leak all over the basement; she made sure both her car and her mother’s went in for basic maintenance. Judy had been absent from the running of the home and Quinn’s life in general for so long that Quinn frequently felt more like an adult and far less like the child Judy allowed Russell to force out last year.

  
Quinn found herself cursing Santana for bringing up those memories of whispered secrets and soft kisses from middle school. Kissing her really was better than kissing any of the guys she’d been with. Over the next weeks, Quinn kept catching herself staring at Brittany dancing in Glee, not even bothering to watch the steps she should have been learning; just watching the rhythmic sway of Brittany’s hips. She caught herself staring at Tina in English when she’d bite her lip and glare at the quiz in front of her. It was when Quinn found herself staring at Rachel's legs in History that she decided she needed to talk to someone about all of this. So, she stayed after Mass the following Sunday and asked if Father Glen was available for a chat.

"Hello, Quinn, how can I help you?" he asked, gesturing her into a chair, smile lighting up the room.

"I need some advice, Father," she said, smoothing her skirt.

"Well, I’ll see what I can do," Father Glen said, nodding encouragingly as he settled behind his desk.

"So I was pregnant last year...," Quinn started, fidgeting with her skirt and biting her lip. "And based on my track record _this_ year, I think it’s fairly obvious that I may not make the best choices in guys, but I _do_ like them." She paused, shooting him a very nervous look, before staring at her hands in her lap. "But, I um... I think I... I think I might also maybe like girls a little," she said in a rush, looking back up at him.

Father Glen just smiled and nodded, "Is there a girl you have your eye on? Or is this just general speculation and deduction?"

"I dunno. I guess just in general?" Quinn fell silent, waiting anxiously for retribution.

But Father Glen’s smile didn’t dim in the slightest. "I’m very glad you’re growing into this strong, self-determined young woman I see. I assume I’m the first person you’ve expressed this feeling to?"

“Yes, Father," Quinn said carefully, still waiting for the ‘well, if you still like boys, why don’t you just focus on that?’ she was sure was coming.

"Then I am honored to have been given such trust," Father Glen said seriously. "I do implore you to remember the Church’s teachings on fidelity and chastity within a relationship, but I don’t think you’ll be rushing headlong into anything right now, right?"

"No, Father," Quinn laughed. "I’m still focusing on me. That’s kind of what brought me here. I couldn’t deny that I was looking at the girls in my class the same way I was looking at the guys. But I do know that God still loves me, and I can feel that every day."

"Of course He loves you, Quinn!" Father Glen’s smile changed, became softer, more sincere. "You were created by Him just as you are. God wants you to be happy, Quinn."

"Thank you, Father," Quinn said, wiping at her suddenly wet cheeks. "I think I really needed to hear that."

"Well, when you tell your mother, send her to me, or you can bring her in and tell her here. I recall that she always took the Church’s teachings a little too literally. I’m here for you whenever you need me," Father Glen said, passing over the box of tissues. "And I’d love to meet your girlfriend, when you finally decide among all the ladies who will no doubt throw themselves at your feet."

Quinn laughed, delighted that, once again, her faith in God and Father Glen had not been misplaced.  



End file.
